


Side-Effects

by isheth_zenunim



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 17:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8541601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isheth_zenunim/pseuds/isheth_zenunim
Summary: "lumateranlibrarian said:
Hey! Idk if you're willing to write a blurb or whatever, but I'm curious: Solas tears down the Veil, and Carver gets magic. What happens? How does he react? How do the others react?"
The short answers is shenanigans.





	

“Balls.” Carver had not previously experienced the sensation of being pulled apart at the molecular level; on the whole, he would not have recommended it. Unfortunately, the same sensation was now spreading through all humanity, modern elves, any who had been touched by magic. With a sound akin to the howling damned, the Veil was shaking itself apart and taking the world with it.

 

It was decided. Carver was not going to put up with this shit.

 

With sword hefted upon his shoulder, he trekked down the Tevinter highway with the last dregs of the former Inquisition. They shoved their way against the flow of citizens running the opposite direction, slowing their progress further. There had been no time to find another route; what Fen’harel had started had set a finite limit for planning and execution.

 

Grim-faced, the former Inquisitor glanced behind him. Perhaps “execution” was the wrong word. Cullen led the remaining forces forward into uncertainty. The former commander knew that telling his troops that the order was to “just fucking wing it” would not have the effect needed. So he inspired them with words of sacrifice and led them from the front. If they survived this, Carver would make it a point to apologize for all the years of bickering. Fortunately, Carver also didn’t expect to survive, so sod that emotional nonsense.

 

And then the world went dark.

 

Dimly, he could hear Dorian shouting for a healer, but the words were garbled as though underwater. The constant pain was pushed away briefly, healing fingers brushing against his temples, cool, familiar, and safe. Someone was telling him to stop being an asshole and wake up. Garrett. He had insisted on coming along; Carver had only acquiesced when he realized there would be nowhere safe on Thedas to put him. They were all in danger.

 

“Fuck off. If I’m not dead yet, just kill me.” His remaining hand had long since lost its grip on his two-handed sword, oddly numb as if Bull had sat on it for a while. When he opened his eyes, others were hovering around him as Dorian dragged the top half of him messily into his lap. “So, we’re not dead.”

 

Garrett let out a sigh of relief. “Not yet. You’re the only one that decided to drop like a pile of grumpy rocks. Needed a nap there, princess?” As his fingers brushed along Carver’s brow to send more healing magic, he frowned. Healing Templars had always been a bit tricky as you never knew how their bodies would respond. But never before had he felt an almost physical tug at his magic, having the mana dragged out of him, almost being leached out rather than banished.

 

While the feeling of Dorian’s fingers in his hair seemed to make everything just a little better, Carver knew that such luxuries would have to wait, potentially until whatever afterlife existed. With a drunken wobble, he pushed himself up and put his head between his legs till the dizziness washed away, still unsure of what caused him to crash. And to top it off, his sodding hand was still numb PLUS the missing hand was now feeling fuzzy. “Garrett, not bloody now. I don’t know what’s going on. I feel like utter shit. I think your healing is broken. I mean, I felt okay but… just hand me some bloody lyrium, please?” While chugging an entire bottle was not the preferred Templar mode, there wasn’t time for ritual.

 

Cullen trotted up with irascibility covering concern. “What’s wrong? Why have we stopped?”

 

Garrett handed his brother another vial without comment and shrugged. “Obviously he needed more beauty sleep. A decade or so’s worth at least by looking at him.”

 

With a belch, Carver shoved away from the others, feeling a bit better but struggling. His body felt too tight, compressed, as if he had been shoved into one of Bethany’s dresses again. As he stooped to reach for his sword, another swarm of Tevinter citizens fled in their fine silks, knocking him over in his weakened state. None made effort to pause, even as their slaves ran over to dust him off.

 

Carver slumped forward, furious he wouldn’t even see the end battle. He was THERE. He had found Solas. He just needed to live a bit longer. He just needed to stay alive to protect everyone. He just needed… he just needed to be angry. “FUCK YOU, FEN’HAREL!”

 

Many things happened at once. 

 

Garrett smiled so widely it hurt his cheeks.  
Cullen dropped his shield onto his foot and cursed.  
Dorian’s eyebrows threatened to fly off his forehead if they raised any further.  
The collected slaves clapped appreciatively.  
The Tevinter slave-owners were crushed together into a ball midair before being dropped unceremoniously onto the ground.  
The first known Templar Rift Mage inadvertently joined the Order.  
Oh, and Carver slammed his fist down in anger, somehow managing to cast Pull of the Abyss with no training ever.

 

“WHAT... THE FUCK... WAS THAT.” Carver stared at his hand, then Garrett, then his hand, and then in the vague direction of Fen’Harel.

 

“Neat! Do it again!” Garrett trotted over and pointed to another incoming pack of people.

 

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.”

 

“See if you can slam them together so hard, they merge Orsino-style!”

 

Carver glared again at his brother before panic fully leaked into his brain. “WHATTHEFUCKWASTHAT? ANDRASTE’S TITS, WILL SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”

 

The elder Hawke squatted down next to him, rubbing his brother’s back soothingly. There was concern, but clearly he had never been more proud of Carver. Casting spells that would take others years to learn with seemingly no effort! But how was that possible? “We’ll get this figured out. The big question is how you managed it when you’re a Templar.”

 

The traitorous hand had not cast again after the initial spell, but Carver frowned at it all the same. “Templar… right. I’m a Templar. Templars don’t cast. Templars shouldn’t cast--”

 

“Yes. You shouldn’t cast. Wait. Carver, NO!”

 

Moments later, the remaining advisors were gathered around the brothers who were currently both sprawling in the dirt and occasionally heaving. Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose as irritation rolled off him. “This is it. This is how our world ends. With these two idiots.”

 

Josephine glanced at him, confused. “What happened?”

 

Garrett, unable to lash out the former Knight-Captain properly, promptly threw up on Cullen’s shoes instead. After wiping his mouth off, he replied to her. “Templars deny magic. So he smited himself and me in the process. Perfect sense, really.” Carver wobbled onto his hand and knees and threw up in agreement.

 

Cassandra handed Cullen a rag. “It was a good world while it lasted.”


End file.
